Daisy snorted. "He can keep right on looking. I've got nothing to give him."

Beulah smirked at her. "You've got plenty."

The snort repeated itself. "Rick certainly doesn't need that from me. He's got a whole heap of girls constantly throwing themselves at him. You saw the one he was with at the General. Did she look to you like the type who'd be holding anything back for holy matrimony?"

"Now, Ducky," Aunt Emily drawled, "don't be so green. Just because a man can pluck every one of the chickens pecking at his ankles in the coop, doesn't mean he wouldn't prefer the cute little hen sitting aloof in the corner."

"Oh, Aunt Emily." Daisy and Brenda groaned in unison.

Aunt Emily chortled.

"I'm not surprised you'd take the weasel's side." Beulah chortled back at her. "You two Pittsylvania moonshiners have to stick together. He's got his whiskey and you've got your gooseberry brandy."

"What I make isn't moonshine," Aunt Emily corrected her. "It's medicine, dear."

Even Brenda had to laugh at that, although it didn't last long. In a moment she was pressing the handkerchief to her wet cheeks.

"I wish it were medicine," she choked. "Then it could have helped Hank."

"Nothing could have helped Hank. He hit a tree with his bike and landed in the creek," Daisy reminded her gently. "He didn't drink bad likker like Fred."

Aunt Emily clucked her tongue. "It's cursed."

They all looked at her.

"It's cursed," she said again. "Fox Hollow is cursed. Four dead on the land, and who knows how many more there'll be. You and your momma were lucky to get away when you did, Ducky."

Daisy's mouth sagged open.

"You're being silly, Aunt Emily," Beulah snapped, "and very inconsiderate to bring it up at a time like this. What happened with Daisy's daddy and Matt's daddy was an accident. Plus old man Dickerson didn't die at Fox Hollow. It was here at the diner, which you know full well. And with Hank a well, that was an accident too."

"Accident or murder," Aunt Emily insisted, "four dead is still four dead. And Fred was poisoned at Fox Hollow. Isn't that right, Ducky? Isn't that what you and Mr. Kinney found at the house?"

Beulah angrily tucked an unruly red curl behind her ear. "Is it really necessary to talk about this now! Can't we enjoy a peaceful meal together with friendsa""

"How do you know Hank's crash was an accident?" Aunt Emily cut her off impatiently. "Has anyone determined that officially? Doesn't it seem a bit suspicious to you? Since when does Hank drive out to Fox Hollow? He probably didn't go there more than once in the past five years. And why was he in such a rush? He was driving awfully fast when it happened, wasn't he, Ducky? Didn't Mr. Kinney say that last night? I know he thinks it's suspicious. That's why he's still here. He thinks it's all connected somehow."

Brenda let out a startled gasp. "He thinks a he thinks Hank is connected with a it wasn't an accident a someone intentionallya""

"Precisely," Aunt Emily declared. "If it wasn't an accident, someone intentionallya""

Daisy shot her a stern, silencing glance and hurriedly put her arm around Brenda's shoulders. "Of course it was an accident. Nobody would hurt Hank. Why would anybody want to hurt him? Everyone loved Hank. We're not going to discuss it any further. Aunt Emily is just talking nonsense."

Aunt Emily squeaked in protest, but Daisy shot her a second glance, this time making it doubly stern.

"Now I think"a"she gave Brenda's shoulders a comforting squeeze, then gestured toward the aluminum tray filled with Brunswick stew that was sitting on the table before thema""it'd be a good idea if you took this into the other room before it got cold. We both know how much Sheriff Lowell likes his stew."

Brenda didn't look very comforted. Her face and neck were florid, and her mouth was drawn tight. But she acquiesced to Daisy's suggestion. Her hands shook as she picked up the tray.

"I a I'll come back for the potato salad."

"There's no need. I'll bring it out in a minute," Beulah told her.

"Okay." With wobbling arms and legs, Brenda walked slowly toward the doorway. When she reached it, she looked back with some uncertainty.

"I'll bring it out," Beulah repeated, nodding.

Brenda nodded in return and wobbled off with the stew. As soon as she had disappeared around the edge of the front counter, Daisy spun toward Aunt Emily.

"Why did you do that?"

Aunt Emily blinked at her. "Do what, Ducky?"

That only increased Daisy's irritation. "You know perfectly well what!"

"I was simply pointing out the facts of the matter."

"You didn't have to point them out to her right now."

"Brenda's a tough old biddy like me," Aunt Emily responded with a touch of haughtiness. "She can handle the truth just fine."

"Normally, yes. But not today. Not five minutes after Hank's funeral!" Daisy exclaimed. "He was her closest friend in the world. They spent practically every waking minute for the last decade together in this diner. Brenda's grieving, and she doesn't need to hear your murder theories while trying to host a memorial luncheon."

"Would you rather she continued to waddle around like an ignorant hippo and ended up having the next accident?"

"What a ridiculous thing to say!" Beulah chastised her.

Aunt Emily turned to her. "Now don't you start sticking your head in the sand too. It's bad enough Ducky takes me for an aged fool and doesn't listen to a single word from my wrinkly lips."

Daisy stuck her hands on her hips. "I do not take you for a fool, Aunt Emily. And I listen to every word from your lips."

As she said it, she remembered how Aunt Emily had been the first person to realize that Fred Dickerson had been deliberately poisoned, so perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to listen a little more closely to those aged and wrinkly lips.

"What I mean is"a"Daisy took a deep breatha""we all value your thoughts and opinions very much. Except maybe today you can share them only with us and not Brenda." She lowered her voice. "Or the rest of the group out there. I'm not so sure how the sheriff would react if you told him you believe the death of his oldest childhood pal may not have been an accident."

Aunt Emily patted Daisy's head affectionately. "There you go. Finally thinking smart like your momma."

She squinted at her. "My momma thinks Hank's death wasn't an accident?"

"I don't know about that. But I do know she doesn't automatically assume something's an accident just because someone happens to calls it an accident. Your momma makes up her own mind. She asks questions and looks at facts. Which is why early this morninga"when everybody else was racing around getting ready for the servicea"Lucy was picking Special Agent Kinney's brain."

"What!"

"Now don't get all panicky." Aunt Emily patted Daisy's head again. "It didn't hurt her none. Quite the opposite. She seemed almost energized afterward. A little like her former spunky self. She and Mr. Kinney must have had a good conversation."

"Well." Daisy hesitated, wondering if that was supposed to reassure her or cause her even more concern. "I guess what matters is she was feeling better."

Beulah concurred with a grunt. But it was a dubious grunt. And Daisy knew why. There was an unmistakable hint of excitement in Aunt Emily's shrewd blue eyes, and that always made it difficult to discern whether she was being brilliant or bobbing up a few apples short of a bushel.

"I reckon you girls will sort it out soon enough," Aunt Emily said.

It was Beulah's turn to squint at her. "Sort what out?"

"Everything, of course. All of it." This time she patted her own head, smoothing down a few stray wisps. "And I have no doubt Mr. Kinney will be of great help. Or at least some help."

Both Daisy and Beulah were too busy squinting to respond.

"Just remember what I told you once before already, Ducky. Get more than you give. He's going to want answers, and so will you. Keep him close. Don't let him go wandering about unsupervised."

"But he's got every right to wander about unsupervised," Daisy replied. "He's ATF. And as you may recall from my family's past dealings with the ATF, their agents do what they want, when they want. We don't get a say in it."

Aunt Emily's nose twitched. "Then you better get a say in it."

"And how exactly do you suggest I do that?"

She smiled. It wasn't a broad, supercilious smile. It was a soft, sage smile. Picking up the bowl of potato salad, Aunt Emily headed toward the open doorway. Her clicking heels paused for an instant as she glanced behind her.

"Either sleep with the man, Ducky, or get some of the answers before he gets 'em."

CHAPTER.

19.

Ethan looked up from the scuffed leather smoking chair when Daisy entered the parlor. "How was it?" he asked.

"It was a funeral." She sunk down on the settee across from him. "In my experience all funerals are pretty much the same. Same pretty speeches. Same pretty flowers. Same grim company."

"I can't argue with you there."

She heaved a troubled sigh. It had been a difficult day. And Aunt Emily had made it even more difficult by insisting on discussing curses and accidents that might not really have been accidents.

"Want to talk about it?" Ethan offered politely.

Daisy shook her head. What she wanted was a drink. Several drinks preferably. Too bad she couldn't get one of Rick's jelly jars without also getting Rick in the process.

"Where's everybody else? Didn't they come back with you?"

"Beulah's checking on something in her salon. Aunt Emily's upstairs enjoying her nightly soak in the tub. And mya"" She stopped. "I heard you and my momma had a lengthy conversation this morning."

"We did," Ethan confirmed.

Although Daisy waited for him to elaborate, he didn't.

"What did you talk about?" she pursued after a minute.

He smiled slightly. "Didn't your mom tell you?"

Her gaze narrowed. She didn't like his evasiveness.

"We talked about Fox Hollow," he said.

That made Daisy's gaze narrow even further. "My momma's not in good health. Surely you're aware of that. The last few years have been extremely hard on her, and I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't add to her stress by bringing up the past. Especially after what just happened to Hank. It's too much for her to handle."

"I didn't bring up the past," Ethan informed her. "She did."

"I doubt that."

"You can doubt it all you want, but it's the truth. Your mom wanted to know about the changes at Fox Hollow. She said she hasn't been there in a long time. She was interested in learning how it looks now. And for the record," he added, "I think your mom can handle a lot more than you think she can."

"Are you a doctor?" Daisy snapped. "Because the doctors keep telling me any extra stress should be avoided at all cost. The very expensive doctors," she muttered glumly under her breath.

Ethan shrugged. "I'm not a doctor, and I don't pretend to know what exactly causes your mom extra stress. But it doesn't seem to be Fox Hollow."

She remained skeptical.

He shrugged again. "That's just my opinion from how she was this morning. She didn't appear the least bit upset when I told her about the condition of the place."

"The condition of the place?"

"The house and gardens and such. What obviously needed work. What might have been different from the last time she saw it. Your mom asked if Mr. Dickerson had been maintaining the property. She also asked about Rick Balsam."

Daisy sat upright. "What about Rick Balsam?"

"Apparently she heard from someone that he was there the same day we were, and she was curious to know why. I don't think your mom realizes he owns Fox Hollow."

"You didn't tell her, did you!"

"No, Ia""

"Good," she cut him off. "Don't."

Ethan raised an eyebrow at her.

"Don't tell her!" Daisy repeated with emphasis.

"She's going to find out eventually. Especially if everybody else knows."

"Everybody else doesn't know. According to Rick, he bought the place at the beginning of the year. But he kept it quiet. So quiet we weren't even aware the property was up for sale. It didn't come out until Fred died, and then it was only because Sheriff Lowell happened to see a copy of the papers and asked Rick about it. As far as I'm aware, there are still just a few of us who know. And we aren't going to share the news with my momma."

"Why not?"

Daisy grimaced. "Do you want to be the one to tell a sick, penniless widow the new owner of her former pride and joy is a seedy, womanizing bootlegger?"